Nighttime
by 25.Angry.Mangoes
Summary: A boy reflects on his days in a series of the nights that follow. 2p! Italy, 2p! Romano, 2p! Seborga Warning: Contains touchy subjects.


Nighttime is always regarded as the most peaceful moment of the day. The morning is bright and cheerful, and full of people busying themselves with tasks to get ready for the day ahead. Its loud and welcoming, but not peaceful. Midday is full of people running around in work, school, or even at home. It's the time for getting things done, and the time to stress about things that have yet to be completed. Definitely not peaceful. The afternoon is filled with people returning to their home, and chatting about their day with others. It also contains the time for dinner, where people get together to share food and talk. Its loving and happy, but still not peaceful. But then, there's the last part of every day, when the sky darkens and the world falls asleep. Animals silence their calls, and all is still. It provides the perfect setting for peace to flourish. But the silence it brings makes it easier for brains to go into overdrive, and easier for a person to reflect on their day, whether that be positive or negative. And with no one to tell you otherwise, the silence becomes a breeding place for negativity.

**Night 1.  
**_I'm laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. The action comes more out of habit than a conscious decision to do so. I slowly tilt my head to the side, glancing at the alarm clock on the stand next to my bed. My tired brain takes a moment to register what the red numbers mean; they read 2:34. Just 3 minutes after I had last checked.. I turn my head back up to the ceiling, my thoughts running rampant. They immediately return to the days events, evaluating everything that happened to an extensive degree. I relive them as if I'm there again, starting with me walking down the halls of my high school. I just barely transferred there a week ago, so I'm relatively new, but 1 week is more than enough time to make friends in a school. It's enough time to make enemies, too. As I walk down the halls of the school, my eyes sweep the space in front of me, being on the lookout for a familiar face. I'm suddenly grabbed from behind, and I shake my head lightly to clear the memory._ "Go to sleep.." _My head tells my body, though I know it's not that simple. I've always had a hard time falling asleep, and moving to the new school has only made it worse. I can't even remember the last time I got a good night of sleep.. My nights usually end in a blank state of consciousness; my eyes seeing nothing, my ears hearing nothing, and my brain.. My brain thinking nothing. The nothing is a welcomed change of pace compared to the chaos that always comes before it.  
_  
**Night 2.  
**"The ceiling's such a nice color.." _I think absentmindedly, staring at it for the 34th day in a row. That's almost 5 weeks.._ "Your insomnia's becoming a bit of a problem.." _My brain warns me, and I know it's true, but there isn't anything I can do about it. Insomnia doesn't have a cure. Once again, as I lay awake, my thoughts go over the day, focusing specifically on school. That's where most of my time is spent, anyway; there isn't much to reflect on at home. In my thoughts, I'm just arriving to my first class of the day, math. I've never been good at math, so it's a given that I'll struggle today. My heart pounds from anxiety, something I'm prone to. I take my seat in the back of the classroom, near it's only window. The seat next to me is filled soon after, and I look away. The student who filled it turns towards me, opening his wide mouth to speak. His name is Luciano, and he's got long, fiery red hair that he ties in a ponytail, small brown eyes that almost look black, and a broad face. Everyone in the school knows him, though he doesn't talk to many people. His reputation alone makes him known. I already know what he's going to say before the words come out of his mouth, so I block them out. The scene becomes blurry, transitioning to the lunchroom, when I'm sitting alone at the table I always choose. I can feel Luciano's beady eyes bearing into the side of my skull, but I pay him no attention. To my relief, he doesn't say anything for the first 15 minutes of lunch, but it's impossible for him to stay silent for any longer than that. The scene blurs again, showing a new one. I'm in my last period, gym. I quickly shake my head before the scene has a chance to develop, urging myself to drift into nothing. After a while, it works.  
_  
**Night 3.  
**"Why can't I fall asleep?" _My mind begs, beginning to get desperate. My eyes look around the room instead of at the ceiling, but they can't focus on anything specific. The room is blurry, as if I'm staring at it through a curtain of water. My eyes are dry and heavy, but each time I close them, they always find a way to pop open again. Earlier in the day I had focused on my reflection in the bathroom mirror, something I normally refused to do. I was generally scared of what kind of monster might be staring back at me, and I had good reason to be afraid. My eyes used to be a vibrant blue, matching the color of the sky. But as I looked back at them through the mirror, all I could see was a dull gray. They had grown wide with exhaustion, giving away my constant fight to stay alert. The area underneath them was swollen with dark bags, accentuating the new gray of my eyes. Gray. The color seemed to be the only thing I saw lately, the only color my eyes perceived. It's amazing how easily color can dull.. After focusing on my eyes, I had moved to looking the rest of me over, noticing immediately how sunken my face had become. My black hair was a mop on my head, and it had grown long past my ears, the bangs covering much of my face if I let it. But a haircut was the least of my worries.. No longer wanting to think of my depressing appearance, I shove the thought away from my mind, begging myself to think of nothing. But of course, it doesn't work, and I think of school. I can't remember the last time I had a nice day at school, and today was no exception to that. My thought process starts right after lunch, before my next period had started. I'm walking to class when Luciano comes into view, heading the opposite direction. Headed straight for me. Quickly, I look away, but I know he's already noticed me. He begins to speak to me, though I choose not to hear what he says. No one would want to hear that again. My own voice soon rings in my head, shouting. It shakes with fear, a fear just as intense and crippling as I remember it. I hate my voice. It betrays my emotions too easily, always being a dead giveaway to what I'd rather not reveal. _"Think of nothing!" _My body begs my mind, though it still doesn't listen. The next scene it presents is just after school had ended. I'm in the library, my favorite place to be. I usually stay there for hours after the final bell rings, being the only person there for a long time. The isolation and silence it gives is nice, but it's very repetitive. Every day feels the same; I get up and get ready for school, I run into Luciano and he.. Anyways, I stay in the library, I come home.. And I think. The nothing comes after that, and then I get up for school again. The whole thing is a routine, with only minor details to separate each day. Thinking about the sheer repetitiveness of my days has distracted me, and soon enough, the sweet, blissful nothing takes over my mind.  
_  
**Night 4.  
**_Most people take sleep for granted. They don't focus on how healing and how peaceful sleep can be, and just how good it feels to let your body just.. Stop. I envy others for that. I miss experiencing sleep's comfort. I've now been 36 days without a proper night of sleep, and I'm more exhausted than I ever thought possible. I can't keep my eyes open during the day, but I also can't let my mind stop racing, stop forcing my body into overdrive. I can't focus on anything, I have trouble hearing and seeing things sometimes.. The world's details have long become blind to me. And I can't stop shaking. No matter what I'm doing, my limbs are always shaking, and the jitters they experience become more severe with each passing day. It makes the small things hard for me to do, like brushing my teeth or writing my name. I can't function because I can't sleep. With each new day, I can feel my mind slipping farther and farther away from me, like I'm standing on the edge of an iceberg, my sanity dangling just inches beneath my reach. But each day, that distance lengthens, and to try to get it back would be risking falling into the icy waters below- falling into the unknown. And I can't risk that. I may be exhausted, but I'm not insane. I shake my head to bring my thoughts back to the present, focusing on the shapes the paint makes on my ceiling, and trying to make images from the random shapes. I unwillingly see a pair of boots in the mess, and it immediately makes me think of my day at school. I'm at lunch, sitting near Luciano, when I get up in an attempt to get away from him. I make my way to the men's restroom, hanging my head as I walk. My walk is slumped to the right side, and I'm limping on my left leg, giving away the pain that it's in. As I get inside the restroom, I lean my head against the wall, placing my palms on its cool surface. My ears are ringing, preventing me from hearing another person walk in. Preventing me from preparing myself against Luciano. I shut my eyes tightly, willing the image to go away, and at last, it does. I no longer see Luciano's sneering face, and I can't feel the strong beat of my heart against my chest. I'm back in my room, starting at the boots on the ceiling. They seem to taunt me, bragging of their inanimate quality, and the freedoms and lack of responsibility that gives them. Realizing that I'm jealous of a random spot on my ceiling that just happens to look like a pair of boots shakes me out of the thoughts, and I glance at the clock instead. 5:19; about an hour before I'll have to truly wake up. I attempt to calm myself down, squeezing my eyes shut against the oppressive feeling that begins to take over my head. It's a feeling that comes and goes often; a feeling that reminds me that I'm sick. Not only am I sick from my lack of sleep, but I'm sick of my life, and sick of everything that I deal with daily. I don't have anything to look forward to, and I'm so far from being able to consider myself happy. I'm sick and I don't know how to fix it. Before I know it, the hour ends, and my alarm clock buzzes, piercing my thoughts with its incessant reminder to get up for school.  
_  
**Night 5.  
**_I can't do this anymore. I can't live like I have been. I'm ready to give up. Every day is the same thing over and over, the same kind of torture, though the words themselves are always different. It's Friday night, exactly 4 minutes before Saturday. But my week has been hell, and my mind unwillingly returns my body to the most significant of the events that transpired over the week, starting with Monday. Once again, I'm walking down the halls of my school, minding my own business. The familiar smell of rotting teeth and smoke-laced breath pummels my nostrils, causing me to clench my face in disgust. Rough hands grasp my shoulders from behind, turning me to shove my shoulder against the wall lined with lockers that stands to my right. I cringe in pain, but I've felt worse, so I turn to face my assailant head-on. Luciano's beady eyes meet mine, and he sneers, showing off his yellowed teeth. I groan, biting my lip to keep from saying anything, or doing anything stupid. _"He'll leave as long as you don't resist." _My mind tells my body, and I listen to it._ "Hey, punk." _Luciano greets curtly, and I suck in a long breath of air, forcing my heart to calm down. _"You'd better have my money." _He adds, removing a hand from my shoulder to hand it out expectantly in front of me. His grip on my other shoulder tightens, warning me that there's no chance at escape. I nod hesitantly, digging crumpled bills out of the pocket of my jeans with shaking hands. I drop the change into his hand, looking back up at him. He counts the money, then turns back to me, his eyes flaring in anger. _"This isn't enough." _He says simply, before sweeping the hall in front of us. Clearing it free of other students and administrators, he swings a tough fist to my right cheek, giving me no time to react. I hold the stinging skin as salty tears prick the edges of my eyes, threatening to make themselves known. But crying in front of Luciano will only make it worse, so I hold them in, keeping a stiff lip as I turn my gaze back to his._ "Is that all?" _I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking. It doesn't work. Luciano shakes his head, kicking my left knee and making me crumple to the ground. He tears my backpack off my shoulders, ripping one of its straps. He dumps its contents on the floor, sifting through them for anything green. Finding nothing, he crouches down next to me, pressing his hand to my chin and forcing my head upwards. _"I'll be expecting the rest tomorrow." _He says quickly, before walking down the hall and away from me. When I get home that night, I inspect myself for injury, finding a bruised shoulder, black eye, and cuts made from fingernails lining the edge of my jaw. I don't look as bad as I had expected, and I hide the injuries as best as I can. I pull a sweatshirt on to keep my shoulder concealed, and spread cream makeup over the fingerprints on my jaw. I don't touch the black eye, and head downstairs to face my parents. My mom lays on the couch in our living room, and my dad is nowhere in sight, but I could have guessed that he'd be gone. Luckily, my mom is asleep. My brain skips the rest of the day, flashing me forward into Tuesday. The scene starts with me in math at the beginning of class, with Luciano sitting in the seat next to mine. _"This isn't even your class." _I remind him lightly, but he pays no attention to my statement and offers me a wide grin instead. His smile remind me of that of a serial killer, the kind of smile they offer their victims before they're killed. Its sickeningly sweet, yet menacing and dark all the same. It's completely terrifying. _"I want my money." _He says, and I shake my head._ "What a nice greeting." _I return, trying to keep a lighthearted tone. _"Where is it?" _He asks impatiently, the volume of his gruff voice rising. _"I don't have it all." _I say, blinking slowly as I hand him a couple bills from my sweatshirt pocket._ "You'll have to settle for this for now." _His eyes narrow as he glances at the money, clamping his hand shut around it. _"Tomorrow is your last day." _He warns, standing up. _"If you don't have it, you will pay." _He whispers the sentence in my ear, his hot breath pressing against my ear and neck. But after he delivers the threat, he leaves. I blink and the next thing I see is the lunchroom. I'm not looking at anything in particular, but I can feel Luciano staring at me from my right. He seems to be inspecting the black eye, the one I said to be the result from a fall. It's a believable story; I'm a very clumsy person. But Luciano knows what it's really from, and he frowns. I can see the corners of his mouth tilt from my peripheral vision, but I refuse to look his way. Suddenly, he laughs. It's a loud, sharp laugh, like that of a hyena. It howls throughout the lunchroom, silencing the gossiping students around us. He stands, his smile wide. Walking behind me, he slaps my back, his laughter growing._ "You see this wimp?!" _He shouts, gathering the full attention of those in the lunchroom._ "He told me he could beat me inna fight!" _Instantly, I close my eyes, anticipating the severe beating that I know will follow. _"Let's see how well he does, why don't we?" _He announces, before shoving me out of my seat and onto the floor of the lunchroom. _"Let's go, tough guy!" _I'm suddenly picked up and placed harshly on my feet, but my knees shake beneath me, threatening to give out. They act as if they can't support my weight, and I'm suddenly on the floor again, watching as Luciano turns towards the audience that surrounds us. _"He already gave up!" _He shouts, shaking his hands in a victorious fashion._ "I will be expecting a reward for winning later." _He smiles to the crowd, but only I can see his sinister intentions. Time skips again, presenting the gym locker room. I'm sitting on the bench in the middle of lockers, my head hung in between my hands. My hair drapes in front of my eyes, obstructing my vision. The sound of footsteps enters my ears, making me flinch with the knowledge of who has entered the locker room. Luciano doesn't need to speak to inform me of his presence, I know that its him. The footsteps come closer to me, and stop just inches in front of me. His feet are close enough for me to see the battered and torn edges of his shoes, long worn gray. I take a deep breath before closing my eyes, fixing my unseeing gaze on the floor in front of me. Luciano crouches, his knees entering my field of vision as I open my eyes once more, keeping them narrowed lightly. I can't see Luciano's movements, save for when his knees move or he twists his foot to the side. But although I can't see him move, I can feel the air stir as the top half of his body moves near me. A loud thud sounds throughout the lunchroom as he shoves me off the bench, my head smacking against the cold linoleum floor. I groan a bit, struggling to get off the floor. I look up to meet his eyes just inches from mine, and shiver as he offers me a twisted grin. With reflexes the speed of lightning, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks it upwards, pulling my head with it. Before I have time to pull away, he shoves it back down again, my nose hitting the ground hard. I feel something trickle from it as he repeats the action twice more, and by the time he releases his grip on my hair, I feel as if I could pass out at any second. _"Consider this my reward, loser." _He mutters in my ear. Luckily, he leaves after that, but I spend the entirety of gym in the locker room, groaning in pain as I lay on the floor, unmoving. Back in my room, I wrinkle my nose at the memory, but cringe from the immense pain the action brings. My mind moves on to Wednesday, showing my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not only do my eyes look gray and my head a mop on my head, but one of the eyes is swollen shut, and my nose is bent at awkward and unnatural angles. I have cuts and bruises all over my body, marking it with scars both new and old. My appearance earns glares from strangers wherever I go, and people constantly whisper behind my back, unaware that I know what they're doing. No one sees past the injuries. After I'm thoroughly disgusted with my appearance, I transition to my occurence with Luciano right before lunch, and I see him walking towards me in the halls. He doesn't touch me; he wouldn't with so many people surrounding us. But he does walk up to me, and speaks to me in a tone too low for others to hear. _"Hey, runt." _He greets, his mouth in the shape of a scowl. _"Why do you even bother showing up to school anymore?" _He asks, and his tone suggests just how serious he is with the sentence. I keep my face as still as I can, though my chest clenches painfully at his words. They're not much, but words have a power to cut the deepest of wounds, the kind that never really heals._ "I won't let you control my life." _I tell him, and he doesn't take kindly to the answer. _"You know that I already do." _He says calmly, leaning towards me as he rests a hand against the locker. The halls begin to clear around us, and he takes it as his sign to let loose. _"Don't pretend that I don't, that might make me mad. And you wouldn't want that, would you?" _He adds, his scowl turning into a sneer. I shake my head slowly._ "That's what I thought." _He says, returning my nod. I hope against the odds that he'll leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he opens the locker that I'm standing next to- which I realize too late is his own- and flings the door open wide, catching the side of my face as I flinch away. My exhaustion makes me slow. It destroys any chance I would have in defending myself against Luciano, rendering me completely useless and vulnerable. Making me easy prey._ "Don't do this.." _I mutter in pain, leaning breathlessly against the wall._ "What are you going to do about it?" _He asks, studying my face closely. The sentence makes me snap. _"You know I can't do anything about it!" _I shout angrily, tears stinging the edges of my eyes. He just laughs at the sentence, but doesn't respond to it with words. _"Answer me!" _I shout, my voice betraying desperation. _"You know that I'm weak! You know that I won't be able to fight back! So what's the point? I thought you liked a chLucianoge! Why me?" _Although I'm loud, my voice is laced with obvious fear. Fear for what he'll do next, and fear for how well I'll be able to handle the brutality. He laughs again, the sound of hyenas once again making itself known. _"I don't like a chLucianoge all the time." _It's the only thing he says, and he lands a punch to my stomach, smiling as I double over in pain. He walks to my side, shoving my shoulder to separate me from the wall. To tear me away from my only shield. I attempt to stand up straight, but he knocks out my left knee with a strong kick, watching carefully as I fall harshly on it. _"Stay on the ground." _He warns, his eyes narrowing in obvious distaste. I stay on the floor, but it isn't because he told me to. It's because I can't catch my breath, can't move my leg, and can't use my hands that have become paralyzed with fear. He uses his foot to flip me onto my back, and I stare at the ceiling, gasping for air. The lights that line it are blinding, hiding the ceiling itself in their bright rays of artificial light. My own ceiling is much more comforting. Luciano leans over me, stomping on my left knee. Pain shoots throughout the leg, presenting itself in my clenching teeth and eyes squeezing shut. Luciano shows his teeth once more, then saunters away, leaving me on the floor of the hallway to suffer. Students pass me over time, but not one of them says a thing. Practically the whole school knows of what Luciano does to me, (save for the teachers, of course,) and not a single one of them dares to intervene. Most are just glad he doesn't touch them; they'd much rather watch me be his personal punching bag. The scene fades to show the library, and I'm sitting in the corner. The lights in the school are all out, and not a soul breaths in the space, except for myself. Every teacher has gone home for the day, and the librarian left hours ago. I had previously believed that the library was my safe place, safe from every source of pain I felt during the day. But that thought disappeared on Wednesday. I'm reading a book, but my brain doesn't attach any meaning to the words that my eyes scan. But "reading" the book gives me something to do to stay awake, and to stay alert. If I fell asleep in the library, I know I wouldn't wake up until the next morning, and not coming home at all wouldn't bode well for me. My eyelids droop as I hold the book, but my ears prick at the sound of the door opening. My head snaps to attention, scanning the area in front of the door. A pair of boots make their way towards me, and I don't need to see the rest of the owner's body to know who it is. Luciano. _"What are you doing here?" _I ask slowly, standing up and setting the book on the top of a shelf next to me. Luciano doesn't respond, and wears no expression on his face of stone. _"How did you know I would be here?" _I continue, trying to get some sort of reaction from him. His smile scares me, but his lack of emotion is even worse, because I have no idea what will be in store for me, or what he will do. If eyes are the window to the soul, then his are dead. They hold nothing in them. I bite my lip in fear, watching his expression for any sign of emotion, but nothing changes. His face reveals nothing. He stands close to me, his chest centimeters from mine. I can feel his rancid breath tickle my nose, smelling characteristically of smoke, as it always does. _"I came for the rest of my money." _He informs me, his voice sharp but indifferent. I shook my head, my hair whipping against his face. _"I don't have it. I can't afford what you want." _He still wears no expression, but his hand latches onto my wrist. I struggle to free it, but to no avail as he turns around, walking toward the library door, and dragging me along with him. _"Wait!" _I shout, but his ears are deaf to my words. He keeps his grip on me until he has dragged me outside, onto the school parking lot. There, he brings his hand across my cheek in a rough slap, a familiar stinging sensation taking over the area. My leg is still in immense pain from earlier, and walking on it shoots the pain throughout my entire body. Everything hurts. _"Why can't you leave me alone.." _I mutter weakly, but, as I expected, he doesn't listen to the statement. He tugs on my wrist that's still enclosed by his fingers, and I stumble forward, running straight into his chest. _"You're pathetic." _He tells me, finally letting go of my wrist, only to grab the neck of my shirt and yank in upwards, lifting my feet from the floor. He then drops my shirt, pushing my chest away from him and throwing me to the floor. I don't remember anything else that happened that day, so my brain moves on to Thursday. I leave the lunchroom that I'm sitting in to make my way to the restroom, trying to get away from Luciano, but the faint sound of footsteps follows my own. My head hangs, my eyes sweeping the area in front of them to prevent against me tripping over anything. Once I'm in the restroom, I lean my head against the wall, relishing in it's cool, smooth surface. I immediately forget about the pair of feet following me, choosing instead to focus on the wall, and trying to clear the soft thrum of ringing in my ears. But ignoring my surroundings brings consequences, and Luciano catches up soon enough, grabbing my hair to pull my head away from the wall. _"You make this too easy." _He tells me, a sick grin twisting his features. He makes sure that I get a good look at his face before he slams my head back into the wall, damaging my already broken nose. My lip busts open, spilling blood onto the wall and all over my face. _"Uh oh." _Luciano comments sarcastically, eyeing the blood on the wall. _"You made a mess." _He adds, spinning me to face him head-on. I attempt to sniff up the blood spilling from my nose, but more replaces it, so I give up on the act. _"We'd better clean up the wall, huh?" _He says, turning my head to drag my cheek across the blood on the wall, smearing it everywhere. He knows it won't work; he's not stupid. He pulls my head away from the wall, but pushes my shoulder into it instead. I cry out loudly, grunting as he leans against my body on the wall. _"You aren't a very good cleaner." _He says, glancing behind me at the mess still on the white surface. _"And your face…" _He trails off, his small eyes roaming my face. I already know it's a mess. _"I'll deal with the wall later, let's clean you up, shall we?" _He suggests, ripping paper towels from the dispenser next to us and filling the drain of a nearby sink with them. He lets go of my head and turns to the sink to turn it on while I sink to the floor. I know what he's about to do, but I'm too weak to protest. I'm too weak to protect myself against his brutality. After a moment, he turns to me, the sink turned on. _"Time for a bath!" _He says in an unnaturally cheerful voice, forcing me to my feet and leading me to the sink. I take a deep breath as he slams my head into the basin, making the water in it overflow. He's done this before, so it's no big deal, but my heart has gone into a full panic, beating painfully against my chest. I wait patiently for him to lift my head; he usually does after about 20 seconds in the water. Then he holds it in front of the mirror until I look at myself, taking in my wretched shape. But 20 seconds passes with my head in the sink, and he shows no sign of lifting it. _"Stay calm." _I tell myself, willing my heart to slow down. _"He'll lift me any second…" _My head says, but another 10 seconds passes with no relent. I can barely hear Luciano's laugh in the distance, and it finds its way into my head, infiltrating my thoughts. I see his clown-like smile, I feel his hot breath on my neck. My head keeps count of the seconds that pass, reminding me that 52 seconds is nearing dangerous territory. I'm not great at holding my breath, but I'm not terrible at it either. I can hold on for a little longer. I tell myself that I can, repeating the phrase multiple times. But as another 15 seconds passes, the edges of my vision begin to blur. _"How long do you plan on hanging on for?" _Luciano says in an exasperated tone, becoming impatient. _"Just hurry up and pass out, already!" _His voice suddenly becomes louder, as if he's leaning next to the sink to speak almost directly in my ear. _"You're worthless." _He spits the sentence right as my vision goes black. But although I can't see, my mind continues to race, jumping in between flashes of scenes. They say your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. I guess they're right. My brain shows me a house, then quickly sets it on fire. I see a bed being engulfed in flames, then black eyes filled with fear. I see smoke, I hear the sound of police sirens, and I hear screams. The screams are louder than anything I've ever heard. The scene disappears and I'm in a hospital, glancing at a bed in front of me through teary eyes. A figure lies in it, but before I can focus on the figure, the scene changes yet again, showing my house. _"You're worthless!" _A voice screams, and my brain identifies it as the voice of my mom. _"Completely worthless!" _The next picture is one of a room, but the only thing I can see is the door in front of me. Searing heat burns my back, so I turn away from the door. Then I see a figure laying on the grass, laying next to me. But I have no time to look closely, as the scene changes yet again, showing a vase be thrown against the wall of my house. I can hear more screaming. The last thing I see is a group of three kids, all laughing and playing together. I recognize one of them as myself. Soon enough, my mind is consumed by fire, the orange tongues licking at the corners of my mind, mocking me. Laughing at me. Calling me weak and worthless, just as Luciano does. The fire is just like him. Finally, the fire fades, and I can no longer see or hear anything. But my lungs scream for air, bringing me back to the present. I don't know how long it's been, but the level desperation I feel for air tells me that time is running out. If Luciano doesn't lift my head soon, I'm screwed. My heart goes into a frantic, arguing with my head. My head says that there is no logical thing for me to do but wait, while my heart begs for another way out of the death trap I'm in. Once again, my vision begins to fade, but I know that if I pass out now, there's no chance that I'll wake up. _"Hold on!" _My head screams, loud enough to shatter eardrums. But no matter how hard I try to fight away the blackened edges of my sight, it keeps coming, closing in on my eyes. Its suffocating and heavy, an oppressive feeling of hopelessness. The knowledge that I'm not getting out of this, that the bathroom sink will become my grave. But just as my eyes begin to close, my head in yanked upwards, and sweet, crisp air flows into my lungs. I can breathe. I can breathe! The realization that I'm still alive makes me light headed, but I'm overflowing with joy. I'm still alive. But one look at Luciano's face wipes the smile from my face, and once again, my heart picks up in fear. His face tells me that he thought I was dead. _"No way.." _He mutters in disbelief, clenching his teeth. Without warning, he lunges towards me, knocking me to the ground. I yelp, my elbows hitting the ground hard. He stands up from me, glaring down at me harshly. His expression has changed so that I can see emotion, but the one I see doesn't help my situation. His eyes hold an abundant amount of hate. So much hate that it freezes me in place, rooting my body to the ground. He walks in circles around me, like a wolf circling its prey. He's a wolf, and I'm his sheep. He presses a foot to my side, turning me so that I'm laying on my other side, no longer on my back. He then makes his way around me again, stopping on the side I've just turned to. I look straight in front of me, choosing to focus on his boots instead of his face. The boots aren't in very good shape, but they don't accurately portray the monster of an owner that they belong to. Suddenly, one of the boots rears back, then snaps forward in the blink of an eye, connecting roughly with my stomach. I instinctively clench forward, but the boot kicks me more times than I can count, swiftly turning my stomach black and blue. I can't take much more of the beating, and I black out quickly. My brain then moves on to the last day of the week- Friday. Today. I barely had enough strength to drag myself out of bed this morning, and making it to school was a fight I didn't want to participate in. But the beginning of the school day went smoothly, providing me with a breath of fresh air. But my brain skips past all of that, landing me in the library after school. I don't have a book in my hand, I had given up on trying to read hours before. I'm just staring at my hands instead, staring into a blank state of consciousness. The footsteps entering the library don't break me out of my trance, and neither does the sound of a voice. I feel a kick to my shoe, paired with a rough shout, and I finally look up, though my attention isn't all there. As I suspected, Luciano leers over me, a frown tugging on his lips. _"What do you want?" _I ask, my words slurring together. Exhaustion is like a drug, it makes me feel as if I'm drunk. Instead of touching me, Luciano kneels beside me, sitting with his knees to his chest. I bring my own in, hugging them as I study his face. The way he sits says there's something wrong, as it's a vulnerable position that I've never seen him be in before. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, moving on from his body position to watch his face. He's still frowning, but it doesn't look to be out of anger. It's almost as if he's upset about something.. I wait for him to answer my question, my eyes never leaving his face. "_... I hate you." _He says after a long silence, and the sentence catches me by surprise. Through all his violence, and every beating he's given me, and every foul word that's exited his mouth, he's never told me that he hates me. It's a signal that something is very wrong. _"Wha-" _Before I can finish my sentence, or even one word of it, he cuts me off. _"I hate you!" _He shouts, moving in his position. He sits with his legs out in front of him, his hands resting on his thighs. _"And you know why, so don't even bother asking!" _He adds, his voice level rising steadily. I don't say anything, but I know what he's talking about. I know why he looked so upset, and why he still does, even with him yelling at me. He hides it well, but I can see him hurting. _"Why?" _His question is quiet, and his voice comes close to breaking as he says the word. I've thought about it a lot. Why. Why? All of my pain, all of my anguish, has followed me since.. So why? I shake my head, unable to answer him, and unable to answer myself. I don't know why. _"Why?!" _Luciano repeats, the question louder this time, but even less firm. His cheeks are burning, and his black eyes are wide. _"You could have.." _He starts, but he can't finish his sentence. He abruptly looks to the floor, letting his long hair cover his face. I can't see it anymore, but I continue to stare, my mind replaying the events from just over a month ago. I'm asleep, in a bed that I've laid in for the past 10 years. I'm dreaming peacefully, though I don't remember what the dream was about. That's not important. The smell of smoke rouses me from my sleep, and I sit up, looking around. My room has grown darker than normal, but I can't place why. I stand from my bed, walking slowly to the door of my room. I grab the handle to investigate, but it's hot, almost hot enough to burn my hand. I jump back from it, realizing that my room has grown dark with smoke. And where there's smoke, there's- _"Fire!" _I hear myself scream, my voice carrying throughout the room, but doesn't make it far past the door. The temperature in my room rises steadily, the smoke clouding my vision and filling my lungs. The abundance of the stuff tells me that the fire must be right outside my door, but something important lies beyond the door. My brother. His room is next to mine, but I know he's not awake. He's almost entirely deaf, and can't hear much of anything without hearing aids. Hearing aids that he can't sleep in. My heart panics, begging me to open the door and get him. But my head says otherwise, telling me that it's probably already too late. My heart screams at my head, pointing out that I'm the only one near him, that my parents are on the other side of the house. There's no way they would be able to get to him, they're counting on me. My head refuses again, and I turn away from the door. My fingers open the window in the back of my room, and I jump out of it, but I'm numb to my surroundings, my eyes blurry with tears. Once I'm out of the two-story window, it's too late to go back. I saved myself without looking for my brother. I've landed on the lawn in my front yard, and, looking around, I realize that I'm the only one out. So I wait for my parents, and I wait for my other brother, who's room lies near theirs. Not even a full minute passes before the three of them come out of the house, hacking up smoke as they do. They look at me with wide smiles, but those smiles vanish almost instantly as they realize the absence of another. _"Romeo." _My brother greets me, his eyes narrowed. _"Where's Flavio?" _I shake my head, unable to say a word. My throat is choked with smoke and tears, and the salty substance streams down my cheeks. My brother's eyes go wide with understanding, but it's not understanding for me. _"He's still..?" _He starts, but leaves the sentence hanging. I nod. Back in the library, I squeeze my eyes shut to clear them of the memory, and it's replaced with one at the hospital. I'm crying over a bed, one that's filled with the lifeless body of Flavio, my brother. A doctor enters the room, placing a hand on my back. There are only the three of us in the room, and the doctor speaks to me in a low tone. _"I'm sorry." _He begins. _"If the firefighters had gotten to him just a minute before, I guarantee he would've lived." _I already know that. I've been told multiple times. The firefighters told me that Flavio's room was the last to be burned, because the fire started in the kitchen, the room directly below mine. If I had walked through that door, he would still be alive. It's my fault that he's dead. My mom didn't take his death well, and neither did my dad. It broke my family. My dad stayed at work for long hours after the event, and we never saw him at home anymore. Even when we moved, he wasn't there to help. My mom started drinking to get rid of the pain, and she blamed me for everything. And my other brother.. I open my eyes again, looking at Luciano. His cheeks are stained with tears, but blatant anger lines his face. _"You could have saved him." _He tells me. My other brother, Luciano, took Flavio's death the worst of us all. He's wanted revenge on me for killing him ever since it happened. I haven't been able to sleep since his death, my nights are always lined with the sound of my family's screams, and the haunting guilt that I'll have to live with. But as I watch Luciano suffer in front of me, a thought enters my mind. I don't have to live with the guilt, and I don't have to handle Luciano's relentless violence anymore. No one would really miss me if I left. My whole family would be happier if I disappeared, and I offer Luciano a soft, but pain-filled smile. He frowns, but doesn't ask about it. I stand up from the library floor, and make my way to my house. That's where I am now, staring up at the ceiling. But tomorrow, things will be different._

The police searched the house, taping it off from the public and from the family that lived in it. They had found the body fairly easily; it rested on the floor of the boys room. Empty bottles lines the edges of the room, and small, orange containers spilling their contents sat next to the body. It's dead arm still held a couple of pills from one of the containers, and the police looked at the scene with a frown. It was clear what had happened, but why? They searched the room from high to low, but it wasn't until the body was removed that they noticed the note. A white piece of paper laid beneath the body, crumpled with use. A frantic handwriting covered the paper, and as the police read the note, their hearts stopped with grief. It contained the heartbreaking answers to their question, and the whole thing started with "I'm laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling."


End file.
